Of Castles and Crystals
by Ihateseatbelts
Summary: Hogsmeade Town lies in ruin. The traitorous Dark Knights of Walpurgis scour the streets in their lust for blood, lauding one name written in the sky above all others: Voldemort. Whisked away from the conflict in a flash of gold, the Crown Princess Daphne is faced with two problems. Why has she awoken at sea, and who is her green-eyed captor? A HP/FF fusion. Bard!Ron, Moogle!Dobby.


**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter isn't mine, nor is Final Fantasy. Hold tight J.K. Rowling and Hironobu Sakaguchi. :)

* * *

 **OF CASTLES AND CRYSTALS**

 _A glimmer in the shadows. A wrinkle in the void._

 _Deep within the abyss, hollow screeches tunnel through the currents of darkness as legion shards of light - once scattered across the fabric of space - begin to collide._

 _A Crystal takes form. A world is born._

* * *

 **Prologue**

It all began with a stone, so say the legends.

In the beginning, there were but two: Elysia, the Goddess of Harmony; Tartarus, the God of Discord. They would spend the First Eternity - a time before Time - in mutual solitude, unyielding but sedate in Their opposition.

To ponder _when_ there was a Union is futile, for the First Eternity is exactly that: forever. But a Union did happen, and They would know bliss.

Though as Time began, forever was no more, and as such, that bliss would not last.

From Their throes of passion sprung an egg with a powerful gleam - a Crystal. For the first time, light and shadow was cast upon the Cosmos.

This was the First Creation.

Elysia and Tartarus beheld Their Crystal with much adoration, fawning over it with yet more zeal than They had shown each other to conceive it beforehand. But this zeal would fast turn to obsession, and soon enough, jealousy. They came to wrestle over it, and in Their struggle, the Crystal split in half.

The shell birthed another two: Alexandra, of the Light; Odin, of the Dark.

Engrossed in Their dispute, Elysia and Tartarus neglected Their newborn children for aeons. When the quarrels ceased, Alexandra and Odin spurned their parents' love in turn, deserting Them in the abyss.

The Creator Gods then knew sorrow, and each sought comfort from the other. Passion blossomed anew, and in Their Union, the pair begat another Crystal.

This was the Second Creation.

Rivalling the First in beauty, Elysia and Tartarus doted over the Crystal with equal vigour: its sheen spawned a spectrum of colours hitherto unknown. However, this spectacle was not of the Crystal's own making. The First Creation remained; Alexandra's glow and Odin's gloom still reached the Crystal from afar, and the pain of the Creator Gods resurfaced.

Stricken with grief, Elysia turned from the new Crystal to weep in silence. Though this enraged Tartarus, the brute, and in His fury, the Crystal was shattered. From this shell came six shards.

Three were cast into Alexandra's Light: they bore Shiva, of Ice; Ifrit, of Fire; Ramuh, of Thunder.

The others were drowned in Odin's Shadow: there wallowed Garuda, of Air; Leviathan, of Water; Titan, of Earth.

Knowing only ruin in their parents' wake, the Elder Twins shielded the Six from Their baleful influence, rearing their younger siblings with affection unconditional. With the work of divine hands, they would then shape the Heavens, the realms Natural, and the Underworld.

This was the Third Creation.

Assured that their successors knew true compassion, Odin and Alexandra departed, forever intertwined at the poles of the Cosmos.

And so came a natural order of things. Whilst the Upper Triad disported above, the Lower Triad would slumber below, and the Six would often assemble about the middle in Union, for ecstasy unbridled.

It was this unbridled ecstasy, however, that would prove their Downfall.

For the Six had love for all, but none had more love than Ifrit for Shiva. One day, he pursued her in the hopes of making her his consort, but the burning of his will caused her flesh to melt. Ramuh rushed to Shiva's aid, and from their embrace brewed a blinding tempest.

Garuda, Leviathan and Titan witnessed this display in full, transfixed in awe. But Ifrit turned his back, for he knew envy.

Incensed, he sought the ears of his Lower kin, sowing seeds of doubt in their hearts with his furious censures:

 _"You think them beautiful? They find you hideous,"_ he said. _"They wish to banish you to the depths Below, to have the Worlds to themselves and me as prisoner! You must not allow them!"_

Outraged by the thought of betrayal, the three rallied behind Ifrit to wage reckoning upon their Upper siblings. Carnage ensued, the echoes of which carried beyond the mortal planes.

Those cries of battle would soon reach that Goddess of Harmony, Elysia Herself. Wrested from Her lament, She appealed to the Elder Twins to grant Her passage to their Creation. Dismayed by their siblings and touched by their mother's remorse, the pair stepped aside. But Tartarus, Old God of Chaos, begrudged Her tenderness, overpowering His first-born to breed still more enmity among the Six.

But He misjudged His powers, for He entered a world that was not His to enter.

From Alexandra's blood and Odin's tears were fashioned five Guardians to turn the tides of battle in Ramuh and Shiva's favour, and Elysia pacified Her children, sealing their wayward wrath into four earthly Crystals.

Tartarus resented Her, and stole the Crystals to forge four Fiends for His army, though He was thwarted by the Five and the Six both, to forever languish below the Below.

Though as Time began, forever was no more, and so His exile shall not last.

* * *

"So when, then?" asked Ron of his father. A duet of groans erupted from the bunk bed to his left.

His father, scratching at his ever-thinning crown of red hair, frowned back at him. "When?"

"When's," repeated Ron, lowering his voice, "you know... _He..._ coming back?"

His father wore an upturned smile. "And just who would _He_ be, now?"

"Oh _come_ on, Dad," said his brother, Fred, limbs splayed as the top bunk creaked. "He obviously means the Dreaded Demon of Discord!"

George, Fred's double from beneath, let out a dramatic gasp.

"Not the Brute from Below the Below!"

Fred grinned. "That's right, dear brother. I'm talking about- "

With blood-curdling roars, they pounced on a ashen-faced Ron from their beds.

"Tartarus!" they exclaimed together, tugging at clumps of his hair. "The _Old God of Chaos-_ "

"Now that is _quite_ enough, boys," said their father, hauling the twins underarm with power belying his bony frame. "Back to bed with you."

"But the story's true," said Ron, fighting down a smirk amid his brothers' grumblings, "it's got to be! That old Pucklepup standing outside the Fat Friar told me so!"

" _Hufflepuff,_ Ron," said his father with a chuckle, turning from the bunks to reach for the book at Ron's bedside. "Show some respect, now. They're a pious lot, are the Priory of St Helga - I've never really been one for those parts of the Book. But if you're really worried, what would your mother say?"

Ron sighed. He'd never get a straight answer.

"Seek only Harmony, and Harmony will follow you..."

"There's a good lad," said his father, clapping Ron on the shoulder. "Now, early night for all. We've got a long day, tomorrow - it's not every day that your brother graduates from Ravenclaw College!"

Ron scoffed. His eldest brother, Bill, took to Crystals and old scrolls like a moogle to cobwebs. Finishing at the top of his class was never out of the question.

His father levelled a finger at him with a furrowed brow.

"None of that," he said, softening his gaze almost instantly. He never could do stern like Ron's mother. "It'll be you three soon, you know. No child of mine'll go poorly read, if- "

"- my name isn't _Arthur Cidney Weasley_ ," droned Ron and his brothers in chorus, " _Chief Engineer of Godric's Grenadiers, First Battalion of the King's Castle Brigade_!"

Arthur boomed a laugh.

"Lest you all forget it," he said, shaking his head as his fingers closed around the doorknob. "Then Goddess save the King!"

* * *

Goddess save the King, for Hogwarts Castle was in shambles.

Castor, the Second of Pearlclyfe released a mournful breath as he surveyed the thickets lying beyond the citadel's moon-bleached walls, his sentries' torches but embers in the distance.

Another child's cot lay empty, robbed in the dead of night. The seventh in a month, and seventeenth of the year.

All from Hogsmeade Town. All of Founders' birth.

Tonight was meant to be a celebration, for Hallows' Eve was more than a simple festival for the state of Pearlclyfe. It marked the day under which their forefathers prised the Crystal of the Flame from the mines of the Goblin Nation, propelling the kingdom towards an age of advancement never before seen.

He would curse those miserly, hook-nosed beastmen, but responsible they were not. Their greed would always curb their subtlety, and as long as their Elders remained in the pockets of the Treasury, rebellion was but a rambling of the drunk and the dead.

"You're brooding again," yawned a gentle voice from behind him. "I'll send for Dobby- "

"You shall _not!_ " said Castor firmly, whirling around to face his wife.

She leaned against the flagged stone threshold, golden tresses as limp as the bags beneath her dark blue eyes.

"You're sure?" said the Queen, a twitch of mischief playing at the corners of her mouth. "And there I thought you were quite taken with the poor sod..."

Castor's jaw pulsed as he stayed his tongue. The hapless moogle was presented as a wedding gift from the House of Malfoy. As a token of his gratitude, he 'forgot' to announce the birth of their son at court.

"Spoilsport," she said, scrunching her lips as she sidled up to him. "One might even confuse you for the Old King."

Castor sniffed. "Then let them stay confused, Embla," he said, smiling wanly as she brushed against his side. "The Old King would have these matters settled."

He felt his wife shrink at his right.

"Another?"

Castor swallowed. "Sir Ja-... Jim's."

Embla hitched a breath. "You're... oh... Oh, _Lily._ "

"I've sent word," said Castor, fingers laced with Embla's as he clasped her side. "A Crown Emergency. The Council of Salazar will meet at noon."

Embla stayed silent, and Castor sighed.

"It's how we must do it," he said tersely, straining his ears to listen for his own conviction. "This is the most urgent problem- "

"Then send out the Grenadiers!" she said with wavering pitch as she tore away from him. "Get some Green Mages from the College to _Scan_ for them, I don't know! But the Council of Crones and Cronies, Castor? That's what _you_ dubbed them, don't forget!"

"They are my chief advisers," said Castor, eyes lidded, "and I am obliged to consult them. My way shall be my own, but I must hear them out. Their children are at risk, too."

"And what of ours, Castor?"

He stared down at his wife, but her eyes would not yield.

"What of _our_ baby? What of Daphne, Castor?"

Yes, what of Daphne, first-born daughter after centuries of Crown Princes?

Goddess save the King, for Hogwarts was truly cursed.

* * *

 **Author's note:** How dare I? Haven't I got enough unfulfilled projects from which to choose? The simple answer is no, haha. I've wanted to do this for years, so why not, right? Right. It's not going to take precedence over my main AU, _Harry Potter and the_ _Untitled Tome,_ since that's just the first arc of a projected multi-fic epic. This, while just as grandiose in its own way, is a single installment, and more of way to have a break without a break. Still, a Harry Potter/Final Fantasy fusion is something I'd expect to interest a few people, so up here it goes!

What to expect: _Harry Potter_ characters in a _Final Fantasy-_ inspired world. Colour-coded branches of magic. House rivalries. Dobby the Moogle. And yes - airships.

Thanks for reading!


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